


So I Bare My Skin and I Count My Sins

by CaroltheQueen (always_1895)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Introspection, Mild Language, Mind Control, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 21:56:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7286158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/always_1895/pseuds/CaroltheQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By the time he reached Jaha's cell he was breathless, desperation coursing through his veins. </p>
<p>“I need your help.” He gasped out. There was no time for being anything other than direct. The other man's eyes flickered over him, his look discerning, perhaps taking in the evidence of Marcus' tears, the blood all over his hands. </p>
<p>Post-season 3, Marcus finds himself in a situation where he will lose Abby without Jaha's help. Jaha's POV in the second part.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

No one even registered how wide the shot went at first. It sounded late, like an echo, trailing after rounds fired in synch by the new recruits. Marcus didn't see who it was, only heard Bellamy's barked command to “keep eyes on the target” somewhere down the line up. No one knew that the trainee's eyes hadn't even been on the target but on the slight movement in the trees somewhere past the fence until it was too late. Too young and his trigger finger too twitchy, it was like the last six months hadn't even happened, and he fired blindly into the woods at the spectre of a Grounder army running to attack. 

But there weren't just Grounders wandering out in the woods anymore, and Trikru were their neighbouring allies; and Marcus had never truly understood the Grounder's complete and utter fear of guns until he saw her. Nyko was shouting and running, as best he could, with Abby in his arms. They were covered in blood. 

All the breath in his body left him even as his heart thundered in his ears, and Marcus' feet were moving without conscious thought, taking him to her. Always to her. The growing awareness and panic of the people around him didn't even register; he pushed against bodies and they let him pass when they saw it was him. The guards at the gate let Nyko rush through and up to Marcus, his momentum barely slowing. 

“Kane, we must hurry, put pressure on her neck!” Nyko's voice was afraid and urgent in a way Marcus had never heard it, but that direct command was the only thing that kept him on his feet when he finally took in Abby up close. There was so much blood. Far, _far _too much. More than Marcus could imagine there being in so small a person. It had soaked through her shirt and covered her neck and chest, splashes of dark crimson against skin that was already so white, so pale, she looked dead already.__

Love and grief threatened to overwhelm everything, pain like Marcus had never known, but through it all a voice inside still screamed: _won't lose her, can't lose her, not Abby _, and he forced himself to see the rag Nyko had tied around Abby's throat, as tight as he could without choking her. To see yet more blood still pumping from where, he realised later, the stray bullet had nicked her carotid artery. Nearly stumbling over his own feet to keep pace with Nyko, Marcus put a trembling hand to Abby's neck, warm, _she's still warm_ , and tried desperately to stem the flow that was already slowing... _Oh God, she's bleeding out.___

“Get her to medical, we need Jackson!” Bellamy shouted next to him, his hand twisted into Marcus' jacket at his shoulder, “Clarke... Where's- Clarke's not..” _Clarke's not here_ , came the finished thought, tumbling out of Marcus' head alongside those of blood type and transfusions. Clarke was in Polis with Luna. Abby was dying - _no, not dying!_ \- and her daughter wasn't there. Marcus wasn't aware he was already crying until he had to blink the tears away to focus on Jackson's stricken face as they all burst into medical. At some point they'd picked up Raven, whose voice was strangled in distress as she yelled at Bellamy to tell her _what the hell happened?_ Marcus was pushed out the way as Jackson and Murphy, who seemed to have already been in the room, hurried into action over Abby's still body. There were voices all around him, fading in and out like a bad radio reception,

“-can give her more blood, yes? As you did for me at Mount W-”

“-the _fuck _you mean she was shot? By who? We're the only ones with-”__

“-her heart will stop if-”

“-she's in shock-”

“-she needs blood-”

All Marcus could do was stare at Abby's pale face, wondering if he'd ever see the brown of her eyes again, feel her thrumming with life in his arms, taste her laughter as he kissed it from her mouth. He yanked up his sleeve, exposing his inner arm to Jackson. 

“Take it.” He hadn't spoken since seeing Abby, and he barely recognised his own voice, torn and broken with emotion, “Take my blood. Please.”

Jackson looked at him with deep sorrow and regret, “I can't just- You aren't a match. Abby is A neg. It's rare. There weren't that many in the database on the Ark and we still haven't had time to type everyone down here. I don't have time-”

“Didn't Abby think of this? Didn't she know _anyone? _” Raven voiced his own desperate thoughts as they raced, sifting through the mess of his memories despite not being remotely qualified to know-__

He stopped. Abby's voice echoed in his head from what felt like a lifetime ago, standing in Earth Monitoring: _The Chancellor's been shot. ___

“Jaha.” Marcus and Jackson said together, and Marcus barely heard Raven and Murphy cursing before he darted forward to kiss Abby's forehead and ran out of the doors, towards the brig.

By the time he reached Jaha's cell he was breathless, desperation coursing through his veins. 

“Marcus.” Jaha was sat on the tarnished metal floor, frowning at him, in confusion or shock at his appearance, Marcus found he didn't care. 

“I need your help.” He gasped out. There was no time for being anything other than direct. The other man's eyes flickered over him, his look discerning, perhaps taking in the evidence of Marcus' tears, the blood all over his hands. 

“Do you now?” His tone gave nothing away.

“Abby needs your help.”

“For a medical issue?” A glance down to the blood again, “If someone's hurt surely _she _-”__

“It's Abby. Abby's hurt. She needs blood. _Please _.”__

He swore something like triumph flashed in Jaha's eyes, though he seemed to remain horribly calm. 

“Yes, she does.”

Marcus wished he could summon rage. Hit the man. Point a gun at his head as he had done to Abby mere weeks ago. Demand, threaten... But violence like that held the memory of his hands clamping down around Bellamy's neck, and all Marcus felt was crushing helplessness. 

“Please.” He felt bare and vulnerable, knew he sounded it, but he didn't have it in him to try and play the situation, to hide how much he needed this, needed _her _. “Do you want me to beg? Is that it?”__

“I just find it somewhat ironic that we've found ourselves here.”

Something in Marcus snapped, _she was slipping away _. “We don't have time for this! Please-” His voice broke, “ _Please, _if you ever had any love for her... For either of us...”____

“Marcus, do you really think I'd let her die?” This time there was finally something in his voice. Something like regret. Hurt, even. Marcus' knees nearly buckled with relief, but he needed a _yes _.__

“You'll do it?”

“Yes, Marcus, I'll do it.” Jaha stated, wearily, perhaps sensing that need for a straight answer. He got to his feet as Marcus crossed the cell and took his arm. “I'm doing this for Abby, and for you. And I hope you'll believe me this time when I say I don't wish harm or pain on either of you.”

His words barely sank in though as Marcus half dragged the man back down the corridor; all that mattered was getting to Abby. _Hold on. Just hold on, baby._

They were greeted by glares when they entered medical, but in the background now there was the electronic beep of the EKG tracking Abby's heartbeat. Too sluggish, too irregular, but there. The sound of it filtered out nearly everything else, and he let the others taking over handling Jaha. Marcus only had eyes for her, taking his place back at her side and watching the barely perceptible rise and fall of her chest. Jackson and Murphy had stopped the bleeding, but her skin was as white as the sheets she lay on. She looked so fragile, so unlike Abby, he was afraid to touch her. 

“I can't believe this asshole is our only option!”

“Hello to you too, John.” Jaha sounded tired and resigned. 

“Fuck you.”

When Jackson moved into his line of sight with needles and IV tubing, Marcus numbly stepped aside to let him work. He finally collapsed into the plastic chair next to the bed, his gaze fixed on the woman he loved.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaha's POV as he helps try and save Abby's life, and as he watches Marcus Kane struggle with the possibility of losing her.

An hour later and a hush had fallen over the medical bay, save for the quiet beep of Abby's pulse, the life inside of her reduced to running lines and peaks that Thelonious found himself hypnotised by when not studying the man seated on the opposite side of the bed. The man who had barely torn his gaze away from Abby's face, nor let go of her hand, since he'd first collapsed into his chair.

Thelonious never thought he'd see Marcus Kane in love. Not like this. This was a far cry from the awkward crushes of their youth. This was a hurricane that had torn through the stoic, logical man he'd thought he'd known and left devastation in it's wake. Thelonious supposed that if anyone could do that to a man, he wasn't surprised it was Abby Griffin. She _was _that hurricane. He was somehow both surprised they'd fallen for each other, yet not at all. They had always had each other's attention, even when it seemed like loathing. They could never ignore, never be indifferent, always caught in each other's orbit.__

It was easy to fall into Abby's gravity, she drew you in, one couldn't help but be entranced by her, she commanded attention. But for her to fall for Marcus Kane? Thelonious considered him again, he didn't know _this _Kane that she'd fallen to Earth with, and he didn't envy him at all. The desperate, aching look on his face as he watched Abby breathe was precisely the thing he had been trying to save them all from.__

As if reading his mind, Kane suddenly spoke, a rough murmur breaking through the silence:

“She survived everything... She survived _you _and your damn City of Light... This can't be the thing that...” His voice caught again and he clearly couldn't finish the thought aloud. Thelonious shifted, his arms ached; one handcuffed to the frame of the bed, the other slowly draining blood into Abby's veins.__

“This wouldn't have mattered in the City of Light, Marcus.”

For the first time in over an hour, Kane's bloodshot eyes snapped to his, outrage written all over his face.

“She's not even in your head anymore and you're still spouting this crap!” His jaw clenched, “Just how much of it was you? You said you don't wish Abby harm but you pointed a gun at her head.”

Thelonious felt a rush of regret. _It was to save your people, _said a voice in his head that still sounded like ALIE. He wondered himself, just how much he and ALIE had bled into one another. He knew it hadn't all been one way, but he could never breathe that to another soul.__

“I knew I wouldn't have to shoot.” Kane just shook his head in disgust. “What you felt then, what you're feeling now, all that pain and fear that you're about to lose her... I just wanted to stop it. Free everyone from it.”

“By nailing people to crosses.”

“By eliminating the weakness of pain and sentiment, Marcus,” He saw Kane freeze at the familiar words, “That's how we survive.”

“We came down here to _live, _not just survive.”__

“How's that worked out for you so far?”

Kane seemed to lose his steam, deflating into misery once more, looking back to Abby and stroking his thumb over the back of her hand. 

“It's what we've been trying to build.” Thelonious didn't know if that 'we' meant all of them, or he and Abby specifically. 

There was a pause, but he sensed Kane was considering saying more, his eyes flickering over Abby's features again and again. Perhaps memorising, Thelonious thought, sadly. Sadness had been his constant companion since the City of Light had fallen.

“Even with everything I'm feeling now... Even if she doesn't...” Kane swallowed, continued to look at her as he spoke, “How could I possibly want to forget her?” He did look up then, eyes hardened, “ _Memory _is what keeps people alive after they're gone, Thelonious,” He bit out, “Not a place full of digital ghosts that don't even remember what it _feels _like to be human. How could you do that to Wells' memory?”____

Thelonious didn't know when he had last felt truly angry, but it surged up in him then,

“I didn't know that would happen when I took the key! She just promised me it wouldn't hurt to think of him anymore.” Something softened in Kane's gaze, it might have been sympathy, it might have been pity. Thelonious wanted neither, he wanted the torrent of emotion to end, but bitterness and vitriol came pouring out. “Don't act like you understand my pain, Kane! I sent my child down here to die, and you're condemning me for wanting to forget that fact? Tell me, if this is all in vain, if Abby dies, how will you feel about being the one to put a gun in that boy's hands?”

All of the breath left Kane in a pained gasp and he bowed his head. That this was the same man who could always maintain such an unaffected air, compartmentalising in a way Thelonious had openly envied... But guilt had been eating at Marcus Kane since the culling, and it just kept piling up.

“Tell me there isn't a part of you that hates that it couldn't be your blood rather than mine? You'd give her everything you have in a heartbeat, but all you can do is sit there and pray. Tell me you wouldn't want to forget all of that if you lose her.”

The silence was ringing when he stopped talking. Looking at Kane, it was clear the words had found their mark, and that guilt Thelonious had felt over Wells just intensified. He wished with everything in him that he could just will the feeling away. The hand that wasn't gripping Abby's like a lifeline was pressed against Kane's mouth. When Thelonious saw the fresh tears that had escaped, he imagined he was trying to physically hold in his grief. But then he visibly forced it down enough to speak, low and wavering,

“I still wouldn't.”

_Until you're broken by a loss, you can't truly know that, _is what Thelonious wanted to say, and he wondered if Abby's death would be the one to break Kane. Instead he said,__

“How much easier it would be for you, to still be that man back on the Ark.”

“I killed 320 people. And their sacrifices were all for nothing.” came the immediate answer, muttered with self-loathing.

“We did, Marcus. To save the rest.”

“Well one of us has to carry the weight of “our” decision, and since you clearly don't...”

“We did what we needed to do.” There were those words again, for better or for worse.

Kane ran a hand over his face, wiping away the wetness and huffed a humourless laugh, “I did what “I needed to do. I closed myself off from all of it -”

“You were stronger that way.”

“- And I very nearly had nothing to hold on to when it all fell apart.” Again he looked at Abby, and his meaning was clear: _but for her. _“Being alone doesn't make you strong.”__

“But love makes you weak.”

Kane looked at him oddly, “Most Grounders say the same thing.”

Thelonious had to hold back a triumphant smirk. Kane and his coalition with the Grounders... yet he would be the one they'd agree with.

“They're very good at surviving.”

Kane sighed, he looked utterly exhausted. Thelonious could relate, he was, after all, being drained quite literally, and now he was feeling it. He felt clammy and shaky.

“You want me to agree with you, that love isn't worth it, that loving _her _isn't worth it, and it's not going to happen.” Kane gave him a small smile, a sad, hopeless thing, “Not even now.”__

Well, Thelonious thought, there was a reason they said love robbed men of all sense and reason, and there was never a more obvious example than the man in front of him. Kane was lost to it, and Thelonious' logic would never break through. Still, he himself loved Abby in his own way. He sighed and flexed his hand where the metal of the cuff was digging into his skin.

“I don't feel like it's worth it at the moment.” Thelonious held up his hand and rattled the chain for emphasis. 

Kane regarded him seriously, “I won't forget you did this.”

Marcus Kane was an honest man, that had not changed, and Thelonious believed him. He knew though that Kane was after all but one man amongst the hundreds that held Thelonious in contempt, even if he was their Chancellor now. Would the _people _he was so intent on saving and giving a life worth living here on this planet want him as their leader anymore if he pardoned Thelonious? Did Thelonious care?__

As if on cue, John Murphy entered the room, carrying a tray of food.

“Personally I was all for draining every last drop out of you – and I wasn't alone there, by the way – but apparently that's not very _doctorly _of me, so here...” He set the tray down in Thelonious' lap, then went through the motions of taking out the IV line, but leaving the cannula still in his hand. Curiously watching Murphy check on Abby, Thelonious stretched and rotated his free arm. It seemed John Murphy had applied himself. “Eat.” The young man said, “Rest. _"Replenish," _Jackson said. In case she needs more later.” He nodded towards Abby.____

Thelonious wasn't sure why his fondness for Murphy remained and refused to go away, even when the boy clearly despised him. He supposed he admired his sense of survival and self-preservation. That dry, mocking sense of humour, that laid back, apathetic bravado. He smiled a little, even as Murphy shot him a departing look of loathing, then focused on his food and let silence descend once more.

It lasted perhaps half an hour, though time was hard for Thelonious to judge anymore after the City of Light. One more thing to get re-accustomed to. Abby's heartbeat seemed to have stabilised, to his ears at least, and for his own part, he felt a little less like he was about to faint. Suddenly Kane gasped and pitched forward to lean his elbows on the bed, staring intently,

“Abby?” He lifted her hand and held it between both of his, gave it a gentle squeeze. Had Abby squeezed his hand? “Abby, can you hear me?”

For a moment there was nothing, then Abby frowned and turned her head towards the sound of Kane's voice. Then let out a whimper of pain when the movement caused the wound to flare up.

“Don't move your neck, sweetheart.” Kane murmured, one hand now carefully cradling the side of her face, and Thelonious had never heard him speak so softly, so tenderly. “Can you hear me?” He said again.

Abby swallowed, then, in a hoarse, weak whisper,

“Marcus?”

Kane's smile was like a sunrise, transforming his face; there were tears in his eyes. He'd never expected to hear her voice again, Thelonious realised.

“Yeah.” Kane breathed, “Yeah, baby it's me. Open your eyes for me?”

It felt profoundly intimate, hearing Kane call her that, and Thelonious would have given them their privacy if he weren't still handcuffed to the bed. As it was, his presence had been forgotten, and he remained a silent observer to this reunion that he was largely responsible for. He felt a sense of goodness, to be able to give them this. 

Slowly, sleepily, making tiny noises of disgruntlement, Abby's eyelids fluttered open, and Kane – no, _Marcus, _he was utterly Marcus in that moment – looked at her with such relief and love and so many other things that were deeply, privately _theirs, _that Thelonious felt like an intruder. He wanted to look away, but his mind was fascinated, and his heart... His heart was _moved._____

“Hi,” Kane was smiling through fresh tears, “Oh my god, hi.”

Abby was the same, Thelonious watched a tear escape the corner of her eye and roll down her temple.

“Marcus...” She offered him a tearful smile in return, drinking in the sight of him. Kane pressed a kiss to her wrist before she moved her hand from his grasp, reaching for him. He shuffled even closer to her so she could touch his face, stroking his beard, tracing his features. “I'm sorry.” It was a muted sob. 

“No, hey,” He wrapped his other arm over her chest, careful not to jostle her wound, bringing his upper body as close to hers as he dared, holding her as best he could. His face, bare and open with raw emotion, hovered over hers, “There's nothing to be sorry for, Abby.”

“We were too close-” She rasped out, “I shoudn't have... I didn't realise we were so close -”

Thelonious put it together. She had been out in the woods, beyond the fence, for one reason or another, and had wandered within the distance of the firing range. But surely she'd heard the shots? Abby answered for him,

“When we heard, we tried to-” She coughed, and Kane made to extricate himself from her, reaching for the water next to Thelonious. Abby turned too, unwilling to let go of Kane, and gasped, both in pain and at the sight of Thelonious sat by her bed.

“ _You _... What - Why?” She coughed again and Kane urged her to drink, supporting her head whilst trying to keep her neck still, touching her like she was made of glass. She managed a few sips before wincing in pain and laying back again. Kane passed the glass back to Thelonious, then ignored his chair in favour of sitting next to Abby on her bed. She clutched his thigh and he covered her hand with his own; his protective bearing was not lost on Thelonious. Kane continued staring at Abby like she was the only thing keeping him tethered to the Earth, whilst she scrutinised Thelonious. Before either man could say anything she came to the conclusion on her own.__

“Blood.” She murmured, and Thelonious nodded, he did after all still have a needle in his arm, only present at all to have him on standby to give more if needed. He found he couldn't read her expression as she stared at him a moment longer, face carefully blank. He saw neither anger nor gratitude, but when she turned her attention back to the man hovering over her, Thelonious watched her soften completely. He had at least seen what love looked like on Abby Griffin, and it was there now, in abundance. Flowing from her eyes and the small sobs that hitched in her breathing as she reached up to stroke a lock of hair that had fallen into Kane's eyes. 

“I almost...” It was a hushed breath, like he daren't say it out loud, “It was so close, Abby, do you know how close...?”

How close he came to losing her, Thelonious thought, and _now _he felt that envy: to be able to touch and see and hear a loved one you had thought lost to you.__

“Baby, I can see it in your face.” She said, running her fingers over his cheeks, nose, forehead, lips. Her words finally brought forth that sob that Thelonious knew had been living in Kane's throat since the moment he saw her bleeding. And Abby, beautiful, smart, intuitive Abby, knew exactly all the things he wanted to say. She pulled him down into a kiss, slowly, carefully, and _Marcus _melted. Thelonious did look away then. It was too much. It was overwhelming and raw. It was theirs and Thelonious had no place there, even if they didn't seem to care _who _saw anymore. He simply bowed his head, stared at the floor and waited, doing his best to ignore whispers of apology, regret and love, the sound of lips meeting, parting, then coming together again. Never with rustled movement or panted breaths. Thelonious could only ever call it adoring, reverent.____

When he no longer heard anything from them, Thelonious still kept his head down, until Kane said his name and he looked up to find Abby asleep in the man's arms, curled into him and leaning on the side that wouldn't put pressure on her wound. She still looked pale, but her heartbeat sounded strong and steady. Kane was an exhausted mess, but he looked happy, relieved. 

“Thank you.” He said, and Thelonious heard the weight in his words. All he could do was nod. “Jackson will bring Bellamy soon to retrieve you.”

Back to jail, then, “Of course.”

“We will talk about what happened here today.”

That was the truth, Marcus Kane would offer no hopeful platitudes or false promises.

“I hope so.”

Kane just looked at him for a second, before speaking again,

“For a moment, back in the cell... I expected you to ask for something in return. To free you.”

“I considered it.”

“Why didn't you?”

“For the friendship we once shared, Marcus.” Thelonious looked at Abby to find her eyes open and fixed on him. “All three of us.”


End file.
